


For the Sake of Scars

by stridaves



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stridaves/pseuds/stridaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dave doesn't like his back very much</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Sake of Scars

The couch groans as John pushes against you, his mouth covering your own, one hand encircling your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck. Your glasses clack together and he pulls back just long enough to chuckle, short and breathless, before he’s on you again.  
Your hands fist in his hair as he moves to your neck, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone, one hand sliding under the back of your shirt, and…  


You freeze.  


He must notice your tension, as he pulls back and loosens his hold on you, moving his hands to grip reassuringly at your shoulders. His breathing is slightly ragged and his face flushed, but you most clearly notice the worry in his eyes. His brow furrows when he asks in a breathless voice, “Hey, Dave, you okay?”  


You relax at the feel of his breath ghosting over you face, and the steady pressure of his hands on your skin. “Yeah,” you breath out, trying to will your stiff back muscles to relax.  


John gives you a look as though he doesn’t quite believe you (you can tell he doesn’t at all), and slides his hands down your shoulders and to your back, trying to rub the tension away.  


“No, don’t-“  
You spring up from your seat, hands awkwardly covering the small of your back. You look down to see and empty handed, shocked looking John staring back up at you. Sighing through your nose, you sit next to him again, but can’t help from fidgeting slightly. “Uh, sorry.”  


He turns, giving you a quizzical look, but stays where he is, seemingly afraid to touch you. You brace yourself, knowing the question that’s coming next. “Dave, what exactly was that…?”  


You drop your gaze, too guilty to look back into the blue eyes that seem to be asking, ‘what did I do wrong?’ Staring at your feet, you answer a simple, “I don’t like my back to be touched.”  


You can almost hear him trying to process what you just said, attempting to make sense of it. He finally gives a very baffled sounding, “What?”  


You just shrug, glad that you have a shirt on right now. “I don’t know. I don’t like it and I don’t like people touching it, or…anything, really, okay?”  


John still seems to be afraid to come too close, but his voice is softer when he asks, “Well, why not?”  


You stare at nothing, responding with a blunt, “It’s ugly.”  


John is silent, as if waiting for you to continue. Deliver the punchline. But no, you sit, and he waits, after several moments breaking the thickening silence with a even softer, “You back’s not ugly, Dave.”  


You swallow. “Yeah? Ever see all them strife scars, Egbert? Really pretty. Real goddamn pretty.”  


He’s silent for a minute longer, and you sit unmoving, almost going slack. He finally does something, but his next action surprises you.  
Standing from the couch to tower over you, he bends to tug at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up your chest. “Arms up,” he orders.  
You fumble over yourself, attempting to move backwards, but he’s not having it. “Dave…” he warns.  


You huff, drawing your arms up, glaring at him the whole time. Once your shirt is off, you sit with your eyes closed, trying to steady your breathing. You wince when you hear the sound of the fabric of what was once your protection hitting the floor, thinking of those horrible, jagged scars marring your back, gruesome to look at.  
The couch shifts down when John sits again, and you feel his hands guiding you to turn. With your back facing him.  
Slowly, you comply, letting him further guide you so you’re lying on your stomach, back in full view for him. He shifts again so he’s straddling your waist backwards, and you shiver when you feel a finger trace a line down your side. Then another line, and another.  


You realize he’s tracing your scars.  


“You know,” John says after you’re pretty sure he’s traced all of your marks, and is now just running the pad of his fingers down the longest ones. “I don’t think they’re ugly at all, dude. In fact,” and you can definitely hear a smile in his voice now, “I think they’re pretty sexy.”  


You roll your eyes- or you would, if your face wasn’t pressed into the couch -and respond with “Only the manliest of men are suitable for you, Egbert.” You feel his shaking frame as he laughs.  


You let yourself relax, and hear John sigh on top of you as he feels the tension draining out of you.  
His hands start to trace mindless patters over your skin as he relaxes on top of you, and you can begin to believe he honestly doesn’t mind the scars. Maybe he even likes them.  


And yeah, if he likes them, then you can deal with a couple of nicks on your back.


End file.
